Buaireann
by Christine Anthemum
Summary: Isabela is absolutely sick of the way Hawke and Choir Boy keep dancing around each other. It's time somebody did something about it. Somebody meaning her, and doing something meaning getting them to shag each other senseless.
1. Part One

**This fic idea was sent to me by a fellow Sebastian lover, and I could not refuse.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age. I am merely borrowing their characters and some of their dialogue.**

 **Warning: This is rated M, in case you have not yet seen. If you are under age, or if that bothers you, I suggest you find something else.**

* * *

Isabela was frustrated, to say the least.

Perhaps frustrated was the wrong word; she was maddened by the frustration surrounding her.

Ugh. There it was again, bloody Hawke rubbing off on her. Since when did she give a rat's arse about other people's lives?

 _Since bloody Hawke._

But she supposed her longing to help her fearless leader might be a selfish one, and the thought brought her some comfort. When Hawke was upset, everyone was upset. And when everyone was upset, people were stabbed, wars started, and suddenly Isabela was sailing back with a priceless relic. Without selling it first!

Don't get her wrong, Isabela loved the occasional stabbing. But Hawke's raging magic stabbing was a bit... extreme.

Suffice to say, do not screw with the Champion. This rule made Isabela somewhat sad. Hawke was such a pretty little thing, and screwing was one of her favorite things to do.

But back to the problem at hand.

Hawke was _miserable_ these days, quite the change from when Isabela first met her. Hawke had been a tough, deadly woman; she still was. But before, she was always so happy, so alive, so ready to help. She was humorous and silly, and Isabela had adored that. But she seemed... less into it now. The spark of mischief was gone from her eyes, the thing that had attracted her many friends. She made fewer jokes, fewer sarcastic quips. Helping people just didn't lift her spirits the way it had before.

Before her mother died.

But that wasn't the problem and Isabela knew it. The problem was that sodding archer. Sebastian Vael. Those two couldn't meet each other's eyes for more than two bloody seconds.

Though she had to admit, Hawke did have nice taste. That Chantry boy had quite the delicious backside. But that didn't change the fact that Hawke hadn't dared to approach him and tell him, or better yet, just mount him already.

For such a brave woman, Hawke was as meek as a mouse when it came to things like _this_. 'Romantic things'. The one time Isabela had asked about the doe-eyed looks she kept shooting him, she had met her gaze with tired eyes and said, "He won't break his vows; not for me, not for anyone. And I won't make him feel guilty or conflicted by telling him of my feelings."

Sodding morality.

But damn her to the Void if Isabela didn't recognize how Sebastian's gaze wandered over Hawke's form when he knew she wasn't looking. Isabela knew what men were thinking when they made those eyes at a woman (or man, or whatever tickled their fancy). Even if they were too cowardly to admit it.

And this was precisely why Isabela had to step in. To make both of them see how idiotic they were being so they could either address it and put it behind them (which didn't sound _nearly_ as fun) or ravage each other already!

It would be a challenge _,_ she knew, to get Prince Vael to break those irritating vows. But Hawke's future happiness (and her future sex life) depended on it! And the pirate queen _never_ backed down from a challenge.


	2. Part Two

**As always, thank you for reading.**

* * *

"What are you plotting, Rivaini?"

The pirate looked over at Varric from her perch on the bar stool, an innocent look on her features. "Who, me? Plotting? What _ever_ could you mean?"

"Right," Varric said slowly. "I haven't been seeing those wicked looks you've been sending Hawke for the past few minutes."

"Varric," Isabela pouted.

"Rivaini," Varric mimicked. "Don't try to bullshit the bullshitter. Not that I'm protesting, of course. We could do with a bit less seriousness."

Isabela laughed. "Oh, Varric, I can't get anything past you, can I?"

"No, but you can always keep trying."

She leaned in close enough to not be overheard. "You've seen how she looks at that Chantry boy."

"Of course I have. She's been looking at him like she wants to eat him alive since the first moment she saw him," Varric chuckled.

"I think it's high time those two shagged like wild rabbits."

Varric sighed, taking a drink from his tankard. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Oh, come now, Varric," Isabela badgered. "All I'm trying to do is win them both a little future happiness. Is that so wrong?"

"I'm almost certain it'll end up that way," Varric muttered. Then he sighed. "Alright, Rivaini. I'll help you."

Isabela punched a fist in the air and whooped, causing Varric to chuckle and shake his head. Whatever floated her boat.

* * *

Hawke always took Sebastian with her. It was just something she always did. When asked why by Isabela, she claimed she wanted someone with a ranged weapon who wasn't an apostate.

She liked to tell herself it was because his purity was refreshing, and she liked to have a balanced party.

They were headed out to the Wounded Coast to clear out some slavers today with Sebastian, Varric, and Fenris tagging along. So as soon as Hawke turned her attention to the former slave, Varric glanced over at Sebastian, a curious smile tugging at his lips.

"So, Choir Boy," he began. "I've always wondered, what does the Maker get out of his people being celibate?"

After getting used to the dwarf's usually joking and sexual questions, this shouldn't have caught Sebastian off guard. "Uhm, It proves our devotion. It shows Him we can resist worldly temptation."

"Uh-huh..." Varric murmured. "So if the whole world became celibate, the Maker would be pleased?"

"Well, no," Sebastian admitted. "Everyone does the Maker's work in one way or another, I suppose. The brothers and sisters of the Chantry just serve the Maker above all else."

"So no wives, husbands, kids?" Varric asked.

Sebastian shook his head. "Not after we take our vows."

"Really," Varric drawled. "I would think the Maker would want those people procreating most. You people are the most patient, the most responsible. You'd be some of the best parents in my book."

Sebastian scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, perhaps..."

"I was just thinking, is all."

Sebastian's brow furrowed, and just then Hawke flashed a smile over her shoulder at the two of them, the wind whipping her brown curls around. As Varric watched, the prince smiled back, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly before he looked away.

Varric chuckled quietly to himself. Maybe Rivaini was right.


	3. Part Three

"What do you think, kitten?"

Isabela's question jerked Hawke out of her thoughts and she blinked at the busty pirate, trying to remember how the conversation started. "What?" she asked dumbly.

Isabela had probably been rambling for the past few minutes, and Hawke had been off in her own head, thinking about a certain Starkhaven prince. Merrill sat across from her, her eyes wide with hopeful excitement.

How long had she been in the Hanged Man now, she wondered? This was probably the first time in a long time that she hadn't gotten drunk. True, Varric had stopped her, but she was still sober. Whether it was by choice or not.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," the pirate stated, giving Merrill a wink. "You need a break, Hawke. When's the last time you went out to have fun? Not including fighting, of course."

Hawke paused, her brow furrowing. She hadn't thought about that before. Now that she thought about it, the last time she'd gone out without the intent to work/fight/run errands was...

Back in Lothering? Well, damn.

"Uh," she mumbled.

"That's what I thought." Isabela leaned forward over the table, putting her generous bosom on display. Hawke tried not to sigh with envy. "We should do something for fun. We could invite everyone, even lady man-hands!"

"But..." Hawke blurted, bewildered. "What-?"

"The Waking Sea is warm this time of year," Isabela hinted, looking at her sideways.

"Please, Hawke?" Merrill asked. "I've never been to the ocean before! It'll be fun!"

Hawke sighed, running a hand through her curls.

* * *

In the end, everyone agreed to go. Even Anders, Aveline, and Fenris, who Hawke had been almost sure would opt out.

And at Isabela's request, she _did_ invite everyone. Even people she wasn't sure she wanted to invite.

She almost wished Sebastian had said no; but if he had, she knew she would have been crushed. His blue eyes had lit up at the suggestion, and he agreed that they could all use a bit of a break. Especially from the summer heat.

They reached the water at around noon, and Isabela wasted no time stripping stark naked and charging into the water like a madwoman. Merrill followed eagerly, throwing off her robes as she went; thankfully, she kept her underclothes on.

Anders gave a hoot of excitement as he dashed across the beach, tossing off his clothes and diving into the waves. Hawke was impressed; most mages didn't know how to swim.

Most mages... including her.

Her barking companion was right behind him, leaping right into the water with enthusiasm.

One by one, each of them entered the water, Hawke last of all.

Watching Sebastian undress... She blushed, forcing her eyes away from his bronze skin as he stripped down to his trousers and busied herself with removing her own clothing.

Not noticing the way his eyes wandered over her body as she slowly undressed. Or the way Isabela and Varric smirked over at the two of them.

Unlike Hawke, Sebastian waded into the water as soon as he was ready until it was up to his waist. When he noticed she wasn't right behind him, he turned back to her. "Are you coming in, Hawke?" He called.

She stood awkwardly on the beach, wiggling her toes in the sand nervously. A slight breeze caused her bare skin to rise to gooseflesh. "In a moment," she lied.

"You're a terrible liar," he reminded her, coming back towards her and onto the dry beach. "What's the matter?"

She frowned at him. "I just- I don't swim."

"Really?" He asked skeptically, his brow furrowing. "Why not?"

"Allow me to rephrase: I _can't_ swim."

"Oh," he said finally, scratching the back of his neck. "It's not too late to learn, Hawke."

"I..." She hesitated, chewing her lip. "I don't know..."

"Come on, I'll show you."

And before she could refuse, he was grabbing her by the hand and practically dragging her into the water.

"No no no no no... Sebastian..."

It wasn't so bad, actually, she could admit. The cool water was soothing to her overheated body, and Sebastian's strong, calloused hand curled around hers... Well. She wasn't going to start complaining.

And then he took her further, and further until her feet didn't touch the ground. Hawke thrashed, panicking, as Sebastian tried to calm her. The bastard was taller than her, tall enough that his feet did reach the bottom; it wasn't fair.

"Hawke," he said firmly, his hands clutched under her arms to keep her head above the surface. "Look at me."

He waited, and eventually she obeyed, lifting her gaze from the water to his eyes. She stopped struggling.

She was barely listening as he instructed her how to keep afloat, occasionally demonstrating. Being held so close to his chest, it was hard to hear anything but the loud, quick beating of her heart.

Hawke took a deep breath. "Please don't drop me."

"I won't." He promised.

With his support, she tried starting to swim. He gave her pointers as she worked to stay afloat, never once releasing his hold on her. He taught her how to float on her back, using her arms and legs to propel herself through the water. He showed her how to move more quickly, ducking his head below the surface and popping up a few feet away.

Hawke was always a fast learner; she was swimming slowly by the end of the first hour.

When at last it seemed like she was getting it, she stopped, looking up at him with joy sparkling in her hazel eyes. "I did it," she cheered, beating the water with her fists in triumph. Hitting Sebastian in the face with quite a bit of water.

"Oops," she giggled, then made a show of wiping her hand down his face while he scrunched up his eyes and mouth. "There. All better!"

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her. She grinned back innocently.

Then he dunked her.

She sputtered, spitting out water as she swatted his hands away. He was chuckling at her, dodging her fists as she attempted to hit him. "You jerk," she pouted, crossing her arms.

"You started it," he said cheekily, turning his face away as she splashed at him again.

He swung his arm back at her from beneath the surface of the water, sending a wave over her head. She tried to mimic him, but was it supposed to be that hard? It wasn't fair. He was cheating.

She pounced at him, going to lock her arms around his neck to try to force his head underwater. He was ready for her though, and he quickly caught her, tossing her into deeper water. He was sure that she'd come back up in a second, glaring and thrashing, but with that twinkle in her eye that told him she was enjoying herself.

He waited, but she didn't resurface.

Oh, Maker. He started to panic, trying to reach in the general direction he'd tossed her. They weren't in too deep of water... and even if they were, he'd thought she'd be a good enough swimmer at this point that she wouldn't sink... had he truly been that wrong?

He ran a hand through his auburn hair, looking in every direction. He'd never forgive himself if he'd accidentally drowned his best friend.

"Gotcha!"

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Hawke popped up behind him, gasping for breath. He whirled on her, catching her in his arms and dragging her back to where the water was waist-deep.

She flashed a toothy smile, still panting.

"That wasn't funny, Hawke," he scolded her. "I thought I'd drowned you."

"I thought it was pretty funny," she disagreed, poking her tongue out between her teeth.

He sighed at her. "Don't do that."

She only laughed again, putting her hands on her hips. He couldn't help but notice the curves of her breasts through her soaked clothes, the swell of her hips, the charming plumpness of her lips...

He cleared his throat, looking away. "I think you can swim on your own, now."

She tried to mask the disappointment in her eyes as he turned away.

In the distance, Isabela did, too.


	4. Part Four

Ugh, what was with that man?!

She had been right in front of him, nearly naked, completely soaked, and he had done _nothing_. This was turning out to be more difficult than she thought it would be.

It was aggravating, but Isabela wasn't done yet. In fact, the group was going out shopping in the market today. And surprise, surprise, Choir Boy had agreed.

He reminded Isabela of an eager puppy, desperate to please her. If she asked him to follow her into the Black City itself, she had no doubt he'd follow her.

So of course, when she asked him if he'd accompany her to the market, he quickly agreed.

This was her chance, she knew, but what could she do now? She sat at her usual stool in the Hanged Man, nursing a vile-smelling ale. What could she possibly do to get those two idiots into each other's pants?

She slammed her fist on the table in frustration and her cup shook slightly, the liquid sloshing around. A drop flew out, splattering on her arm.

Then she got an idea.

* * *

Hawke arrived to get Isabela and Varric less than an hour later; everyone who had chosen to come with her was also there: Anders, Merrill, Fenris, and Sebastian. Aveline was busy today; guard business. That was probably a good thing, because there already were so many of them.

Merrill skipped off to fetch Varric, and Hawke made her way through the crowd of patrons, searching for Isabela. She wasn't hard to find, she was in her usual seat; but she wasn't alone.

One of her 'admirers' was seated next to her, likely professing his undying love for her. Isabela looked ready to stab something.

Hawke only caught part of their conversation as she moved towards them.

"You have wormed yourself into the flesh of my heart like a worm in a red, red apple. You heart-worm, you."

Ah. So another poet, then.

With a groan, Isabela turned away and went to stand up. But she had forgotten her cup was resting at the edge of the bar, and she wasn't paying attention. Hawke was standing too close.

Before she could move, the remainder of Isabela's drink landed on Hawke's chest, soaking through her clothes and dripping sticky liquid down her bodice.

"Isabela," she cried.

"Hawke!" Isabela jumped to her feet. "Oh, I'm sorry, kitten! Didn't see you there."

"It's... it's..." Hawke sighed. "I'll just have to go home and change, then."

"Nonsense, woman!" Isabela declared, grabbing her by the wrist. "It was my fault. You can borrow some of my clothes."

"Isabela..."

"Don't worry about it, Hawke. We have things to do today - you can't waste time running back and forth across Kirkwall."

* * *

"I can't go out in this, Isa!"

She stared down at her body in horror. It was true, it was better than what Isabela usually wore; instead of a ridiculously short skirt, she wore tight leather trousers. Isabela still insisted on giving her the thigh-high boots.

The top was like what Isabela usually wore; and that was the problem. Hawke did not have the chest that Isabela did, so she risked flashing everyone her underclothes every time she moved.

"Nonsense," Isabela repeated. "You're gorgeous. If you'd let me, I'd have my way with you until Maker knows when."

Hawke blushed. "But-"

Before Hawke could protest, or stop her, Isabela rolled up the extra fabric over her breasts and tucked it into her breastband. "There," she said, pleased with her work.

Hawke slapped her hands away, heaving a sigh. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she grumbled, moving over to the door.

Isabela laughed. "You have no idea how many times I've said that while following you."

* * *

 _Holy flames of Andraste_...

If he had to follow her for much longer, Sebastian swore she'd kill him.

Of course he understood that Isabela had spilled her drink on her, and she didn't have time to go home to change... but...

He didn't want to look; he really didn't, but he had to walk behind her. It was almost impossible _not_ to watch.

Those pants were tight around her, emphasizing the perfect, shapely roundness of her arse. Every once in a while the white shirt Isabela had lent her rode up, flashing a bit of creamy skin.

Sebastian tore his eyes away from her. Hawke was his friend, he told himself. She was a good, noble woman and his best friend.

But Maker, that woman...

Apparently, he wasn't the only one who thought so. When he looked up, Anders' gaze was right where his had been. The abomination's mouth was slightly open and he followed her as if entranced.

Sebastian's hands balled into fists as he looked over at Fenris.

Fenris was no better. He eyed her body as he was a wolf, and she was his meal.

But Isabela had to be the worst. She was grinning, unashamedly watching the swaying of Hawke's hips, licking her lips as Hawke leaned over a merchant's stall.

Sebastian forced himself to look at Hawke's face instead. Her hair was up in a messy bun today, loose strands of hair hanging in her eyes. She was radiant, as always, with her joyful hazel eyes and lovely smile. Merrill must have said something cute, because Hawke's face lit up with a grin and she laughed, hooking an arm through the elf's. She was so beautiful.

She must have felt him watching her, because she turned slowly and met his gaze with a curious one of her own. She raised an eyebrow at him, still smiling from ear to ear.

He met her eyes. For once, he didn't look away.

She did. After a few moments, she blushed and looked at the ground, clearing her throat and wandering towards the next stall.

He followed her without thinking, a grin of his own spreading across his face.

She came up to a jeweler, picking up a random amethyst necklace and showing it to Sebastian. "Isn't this lovely, Sebastian?"

"Aye," he agreed, staring into her eyes. "Beautiful."

And she knew he wasn't talking about the jewelry.

Behind her though, where she couldn't see, Varric handed Isabela a couple sovereigns.


	5. Part Five

A week afterward, Hawke started receiving gifts.

It was simple at first; an unmarked box, given to her by a clueless Bodahn, which held a simple bracelet inside.

There were no clues as to who it was from. There was no note, and the box could have been gotten anywhere. It was strange, and Hawke was so suspicious of it she didn't ever wear it.

A couple days later, however, she received a kind of lotion. When she opened the jar, she was met with the scent of something sweet yet spicy, something she couldn't identify. There still was no note, but she just had to try it.

It left her skin the softest it had ever been, and left her smelling of that sweet spice.

Then the gifts started coming more frequently. The next day, she was given a lovely red silk scarf.

And the morning after that, she found pastries in her kitchen.

That afternoon, Bodahn handed her a box with a forest green blouse. And for the first time, it had a note:

 _To bring out your eyes._

 _~A secret admirer_

It really did go with her eyes well, she had to admit. It was a lace up short-sleeved top, good for the heat, and she started wearing it when she wasn't fighting.

Isabela started insisting she wear it with the pair of pants that she'd been given when Isa spilled wine on her robes.

Which, she had to admit, looked damn good on her.

Good enough to make Sebastian look at her...

She shoved that thought away as soon as it came. Sebastian had no interest in her, she told herself. He was probably only wondering how she could bear to go out that way.

As time went on, the presents became more and more... intimate.

Fine perfumes, scandalous nightgowns, and lacy underclothes being among them.

But eh, what the hell, she thought. If she had them, she might as well use them. And to her surprise, when she wore them she started walking less like a scared mage and more like... like... _Isabela._

She felt like she knew something no one else did. It made her smirk and bite her lip every time the lace brushed her skin. It made her feel sexy. She moved with less awkwardness and more grace. She felt powerful in a completely new way.

And more eyes followed her when she moved.

She only wished she could be happier about it.

* * *

Isabela and Varric sat across from each other at the table in the Hanged Man, each looking slyly over their hand of cards.

The entire group came there at least once a week for Wicked Grace, even Sebastian, thought he chose not to play.

Something Isabela decided to take advantage of.

And with both a pirate captain and a master storyteller, it was too easy to make the game go their way.

"This is ridiculous," Hawke complained. "I've never lost all my money so early. I don't want to go home yet."

"Then don't." Isabela smirked. "Money's not the only thing you can bet with, kitten."

Hawke flushed red with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "But-"

"What's the matter, Hawke?" Varric drawled, raising an eyebrow at her. "The Champion of Kirkwall would never back down from a challenge."

She narrowed her eyes, and for a moment it almost looked as if she might get up and leave right then.

But she threw in her cards, motioning to Isabela to give her another hand.

Varric hid his smirk.

And Hawke wasn't the only one who ended up without coin. Fenris was out not long afterward, and refused to continue. When Anders's pockets ran dry, he merely shrugged and offered his socks.

First, Hawke lost a bracelet. Anders lost a belt. The next round Anders folded; Hawke lost a boot.

Sebastian was shaking his head. "I don't think it's wise to bet your shoes, Hawke."

She flashed him a smile. "Nonsense; if Fenris and Merrill can walk without shoes, so can I."

The next round, she lost the other. She didn't mind; she didn't really want to hop home anyway.

Anders lost a bracer, and Hawke lost her shirt.

She had her bindings on underneath it, though, keeping her chest hidden from view.

She shifted nervously. Since she'd taken to wearing her gifts, she knew her breasts would be more eye-catching than usual. She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

"There's still time to back out, Hawke," Varric told her, a sly smile playing on his lips.

He knew just how to play her.

She narrowed her eyes. "Deal again."

"Hawke," Sebastian cautioned.

She lost, of course. she shed her trousers, slightly sad that she had to lose such comfy pants.

Isabela rubbed her hands together evilly.

"That's enough."

Startled, everyone looked up at the finality in Sebastian's tone. He stood, undid the fastenings on his chainmail coat, and put it over Hawke's shoulders, urging her to her feet.

"You'll take no more from her tonight."

And he led Hawke out the door by her hand, almost everyone staring after them.

Anders frowned. "That's not fair..."

Varric and Isabela shared a knowing smile.

Isabela knew it wouldn't be happening tonight, though.

Sebastian was far too noble. Hawke had been drinking, and randy as a goat or no, Sebastian would never want her drunk.

But it would be soon.


End file.
